My collaborators are having their convention in Cleveland this week, was the rueful joke among real songwriters who were seeing their royalties diluted by cut-ins.

Press on! for it is godlike to unloose / The spirit, and forget yourself in thought; / Bending a pinion for the deeper sky, / And in the very fetters of your flesh, / Mating with the pure essences of heaven!

We strewed the contents of the box across the bench and clawed through them to find other images of Sando. There was even an old picture of him as a jug-eared kid in sandshoes, noseriding a longboard with his back arched and his arm and head thrown back like a matador.

Be a little audacious — disagree on at least one thing so they know you have a mind of your own.